


(Day 2) Brawl

by mydwynter



Series: January Sherlock Vignette Challenge [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anderson being Anderson, Gen, Mycroft Being Mycroft, kind of a Star Trek VI reference, kind of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydwynter/pseuds/mydwynter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A muscle in Mycroft’s cheek twitches. “Do you speak just to hear yourself bray? Because you’re certainly not imparting information necessary to anyone around you.”</i>
</p><p>Sometimes Anderson just shouldn't say words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Day 2) Brawl

**Author's Note:**

> My mind rebels in stagnation. So every day for the month of January I'm posting a Sherlock vignette, born out of prompts from generators and friends alike.
> 
> Also known as, "Mydwynter, you don't always have to deliberate over one sentence for five minutes."
> 
> Today's prompt: Mycroft, Anderson, Coffeeshop AU, Angelo's, "Brawl"   
> Thanks once again to Mazarin221B and HiddenLacuna for the beta and the hilarious conversations.

“He’s cheating, you know,” Anderson says in a snide voice, pausing in his constant broom-pushing to deliver his news. “He had coffee last week with a _woman._ ” He leans forward on the last word and raises his eyebrows with comical emphasis.

“Did he,” Mycroft drawls, already past-bored with the conversation after the first sentence. He takes a sip of his latte and continues to read his paper. “I do wonder that you get any work done, keeping track as you do of all the times your manager has coffee with someone at a coffee shop.”

“Lestrade rarely has coffee with anyone. It’s usually just you.” Anderson sneers and slides the broom six feet, missing an entire swath of dried mud, then stops. “But this time it was a blonde woman and their heads were together and they were _smiling_.”

“Were they.” Mycroft turns the page to the stock section and doesn’t look up. “Indeed.”

“Although…your cameras are everywhere, I’m sure you saw it. You must know about it. You probably let him out of his cage for a while, let him have sex with woman. He probably gets antsy. You know how bisexuals are.”

Finally, Mycroft deigns to look at Anderson. He lets half his paper fall and blinks at him. “And how is that, exactly?”

“You know. They need a little bit of the other every once in a while, or they cheat.”

“Do they.”

“Of course. They can’t pick just one or the other.”

Mycroft blinks at him again. “You astonish me.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know that. You took up with him without knowing what you’re in for?”

“No, I mean your ignorance astonishes me.”

Anderson pulls a face. “Look, just because you’re upset with _him_ doesn’t mean you have to get…shirty with me.”

A muscle in Mycroft’s cheek twitches. “Do you speak just to hear yourself bray? Because you’re certainly not imparting information necessary to anyone around you.”

A cloud lowers upon Anderson’s features and he aggressively steps forward into Mycroft’s face. “Listen here. I don’t have to—” And then he drops to the ground in a dead faint.

Mycroft pulls back his hand from delivering an ergonomically-sophisticated, low-impact, Holmes/Vernet-heirloom manoeuvre delivered to the nerve bundle at the junction of the neck and shoulder and wipes his hand fastidiously on his trouser leg. He snaps his paper back into shape and continues reading, the sound of the espresso machine grinding away in the background.


End file.
